Welcome to day 7 of 30 Days of Writing, a creative writing challenge for the criminally insane. Today’s prompt is “Excess”. Enjoy, and don’t forget to link up at the end of this post if you’ve participated in today’s challenge and then go drink to excess as a reward for surviving the first week!
All My Excess Live In Texcess
I got nothing. Seriously. This prompt has been driving me crazy since day one. I blame Mike for this one, and for once, it really is his fault. I suggested “access”. He said “excess”. We argued. He cried. I rolled my eyes. He threatened to write 30 days of cat posts. I caved.
Ok, fine! Stop looking at me like that. No, that’s not what happened. But it could have happened like that. Yes, it could have. Whatever.
Anyway. I started thinking about my life and excess. Is there any excess in my life that I could relate here?
Jepeto immediately brought up my shoes. I immediately dismissed it. Fifty pairs of shoes and 8 pairs of boots is hardly excessive. Right?… Right?!
That’s what I thought.
So, I decided maybe fiction was the way to go with this theme. And then I did what I always do when I’m trying to come up with an idea for a story. I went out on the back steps, lit up a cigarette and stared at the side of my garage. And waited. And waited. And stared.
And then it happened. A scene popped into my head.
She carefully wiped off the excess and shot him a worried look. “It’s okay,” he said. “He’ll never know.”
I could see them in my head. She has light brown hair, with natural blond highlights. I could see the highlights when she lifted her head to look at him. I could see the creases in her forehead, the panic in her dark eyes. Her pupils are dilated and it’s hard to tell what colour they are. I could see him too. His eyes are grey and his hair is lighter than hers, more blond and less brown. He’s worried too, but he’s hiding it. His jaw was clenched until she looked up at him.
I saw them.
But what I couldn’t see was the other “he”. The “he” of “He’ll never know.” Who the hell is he? Who is he that they were trying so desperately to hide something from him and were so afraid of him?! And what were they trying to hide? What did they do?
No amount of staring and smoking and waiting could answer my questions. They stayed right where they were in my head, frozen in that mysterious panic-stricken moment.
I knew it was completely hopeless and, in frustration, I considered writing a poem about excess, instead. I started mulling it over, trying to come up with a list of words that rhyme with excess. And could only come up with Texas. Except in my head, I pronounce it Texcess.
Well, at least I got a title out of the whole damn thing.